Mute Silhouettes
by Orifiel
Summary: Who we were doesn't necessarily define who we are in the present. We're cops, mercs, escorts, musicians; everyday citizens residing in a galaxy where Commander Shepard dominates center stage. But we've always been here, going about our lives and coping with the history that shapes us. Although invisible beneath Shepard's shadow, we exist.
1. The Consort's Acolyte: Lucy

**Setting:** _Mass Effect 1 _to_ Mass Effect 3._

**A/N:** Just to switch things up, I've decided to do an exercise that will both address my literary weak points and challenge me to broaden my writing arsenal. For this story, I'm shifting away from my typical writing style by forcing myself to write in first person (oh boy…), eliminating virtually all adverbs (I already know I'm going to fail at this), funneling description in less bludgeon-like ways, killing info dumps with fire, and cutting off my tendency to drone on and on in exposition. Also, a message to my elusive muse: I hate you for abandoning me when I need you most, you heartless trollop. Making me fly by the seat of my pants here… I see how it is…

x-x-x-x-x

**- I -**

**The Consort's Acolyte**

**(2183 CE)**

"My specialty is touch."

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes as our resident golden girl, Nelyna, fixed the newest prospective client with one of her dazzling smiles. The sucker was all over it in an instant and even from halfway across the vast, lavender-scented room I saw his nostrils flare in eager anticipation. She took a moment to write him into her schedule before catching my eye and sending that blinding smile in my direction as if to say, _"See, this is how it's done."_ I answered that with a brief glare and then looked away.

_Yeah, okay. Except I'm missing that whole mystical charm thing that your entire race seems gifted with from birth._

I never did understand why men, especially of my species—and especially _this_ drooling idiot—were so drawn to the asari. Not that I had anything against the blue bombshells, but seriously. You see one asari, you've pretty much seen them all. Diversity? Minimal. Yet from what I've observed in my three months here, the bulk of our clientele scheduled sessions with either Sha'ira or the asari acolytes. The Spanish girl and I were the odd ones out, and while I could see why _I_ didn't get many returning clients, a charismatic babe like her should have gotten at least as many appointments as Nelyna and the others did.

Spanish girl had today off, so I was the sole human acolyte gracing the scene. Well, not so much gracing as taking up space. For a good chunk of the past two hours, I'd been reclining in one of the plushy chaise lounge chairs of the main sitting room, twirling my wavy sable hair around my finger and trying to look appealing. As long as I kept my mouth shut, I could probably attract one or two first-timers with my practiced "mysterious woman" façade and lock them into appointments. But jeez, this work day was taking forever. And my form-fitting sky blue gown felt a little too snug around the middle even though I was sucking in my stomach.

_Probably time to lay off the desserts. Damn it._

When half an hour went by without anyone else coming in, I dropped what little poise I had and slouched in my seat, staring up at the high ceiling. The fixed sconces shined down on me and cast the area in an intimate, dim luminescence. I listened to the quiet conversations between the other acolytes and their clients seated at various sofas scattered throughout the room. Soft music played in the background; some archaic, classical piece originating from my people's homeworld. Although it was meant to soothe and contribute to the calming atmosphere, it had me yawning for a minute straight.

The silky voice that came into my earpiece jolted me out of my drowsiness. "Lucille, when you have a moment, please come into my personal quarters. I would like to speak with you."

Well shit, was I in trouble already? I responded with a meek, "Yes, ma'am," and pushed myself from the chaise, pausing to smooth out the wrinkles in my clothing. Forgot to iron again. That was twenty brownie points off right there.

My stilettos clicked on the spotless linoleum floor as I made my way toward the rear entrance that led to Sha'ira's private wing, feeling really awkward as I tried not to wobble in the four-inch heels. Whoever invented these goddamn things must have been a sadist because I couldn't find any legitimate reason why the back of a woman's feet should be elevated this high off the ground. Yeah, aesthetics and all that, but my ass looked just fine without being subjected to these torturous stilts, thank you very much. None of the other girls seemed to feel the same way, though. A few wearing even higher heels glided past me with impossible grace, leaving me in the dust as I made my bowlegged progress across the room. As if my self-esteem didn't already suffer enough.

I managed to haul myself up the few steps in front of the ramp by clutching onto the metal railing for dear life. I guess I should have been grateful that no one laughed at me, but no one had offered to help me out, either. Gotta love that "every woman for herself" mentality here. The steep ramp brought me to a quiet, wide corridor with off-white walls, and by the time the floor leveled out again, beads of sweat rolled down my back and my calf muscles felt a dozen steps away from snapping. This was the first instance I'd been summoned to Sha'ira's quarters while dressed in full acolyte garb, and these damned clothes actually turned a simple walk into a workout. Wishing I could go barefoot under my gown like I did while coming and going for each work shift, I manned up and strode by two acolytes I didn't recognize who were on break, one of them heavily pregnant.

"I just feel so huge and hideous, but I'm putting off my maternity leave because I need the hours," the knocked up one lamented.

"Aww, you're beautiful, honey," her friend assured her. "And besides, you don't look pregnant from the back."

I hid a snort._ Ha! Whatever. You look pregnant from space._

But hey, preggers lady appeared to cheer up from the helpful—but blatant—lie, so I left her to her delusions and approached Sha'ira's quarters. The temperature dropped a few degrees here, and I ran my hands over my arms as the perspiration on my skin went cold and chilled me in seconds. Stopping outside the gleaming silver door, I shook out my sore legs and made a mental note to stretch them out later. I brought my fingers up to my earpiece to radio my boss, but in that instant, the access panel turned green and the door slid open.

I froze when my gaze settled on the redheaded form of Commander Jane Shepard, whose striking emerald irises—no, for real, that's what they looked like—put my fig green ones to shame. She was tall, around my height. I didn't move as she stepped forward while talking to her companions, a male Alliance officer and a turian wearing the C-Sec uniform. Her voice sounded very authoritative as she spoke in terms and jargon I didn't understand. They must have come in while I'd gone to the ladies' room because I would have remembered a trio of armored and _armed_ people marching around the Consort's Chambers. I smelled gun oil and medi-gel on them as they came closer, and suddenly I found myself scrutinized by three pairs of eyes.

_Come on, Lucy. You're standing in front of the first human Spectre. Say, 'Hello, have a pleasant day.'_

"'Sup, how's it going?" my mouth blurted instead.

_Mother of God, I fail._

But to my relief, the commander gave me an amused smile and proceeded past me, the other two nodding at me in acknowledgement as they followed her. I didn't realize how hard my heart was pounding until they turned the corner. Never thought of myself as the type to get star-struck, but it was hard not to have a girl crush on a war hero like Shepard. And of course I end up looking like a damn fool in front of her. Well, at least she didn't witness my pathetic high-heeled trek over here.

"Lucille, please come in," Sha'ira called.

I whirled around and almost lost my balance. Definitely wasn't on top of my game today. The Consort stood waiting in the middle of her lavish quarters, and I hobbled through the open doorway as fast as I could while maintaining some semblance of grace. Actually, by this point I considered any movements that didn't end with me faceplanting on the floor a raving success in elegance. Sha'ira's unimpressed expression told me she didn't share that opinion.

"That was not the proper way to greet guests," she admonished, though her tone stayed gentle.

A flush rose to my cheeks. Her manner, no matter how temperate, always made me feel like a blundering oaf. "Yes, sorry about that, Sha'ira. I forget my speech sometimes."

Her long skirt flowed after her as she walked a circle around me, studying my sweaty gown, frizzing hair, and melting makeup. I caught a whiff of some unknown floral scent as she stopped at my two o'clock. Anxiety crept into my stomach when she didn't say anything for a while. I couldn't read her face. She continued to examine me as if I were the most confusing piece of work at an art exhibit. To a refined asari like her, I might as well have been just that. I counted the seconds until over a minute had passed. My pulse raced faster than it had in front of Shepard.

After another minute of silence had me quaking in my heels, she finally spoke. "Lucille, it appears that you haven't been working hard enough to fit in here."

_Fuck._

"However, that roughness in your personality is precisely why I took you in. Your 'tough love' specialty has brought in clients who otherwise would not have come here. Still," she went on when I opened my mouth to thank her, "there must be a balance."

My blood pressure receded as I nodded, the easing stress leaving me lightheaded. So she wasn't going to fire me after all. Not yet, at least. I admitted to myself that I probably should have been trying harder at this position.

"Acolytes have certain guidelines to follow in order to be marketable. I need you to make more of an effort." Her serene voice drifted over me, which relaxed the rest of my tension.

Trying not to gush, I replied, "I will, I promise."

She clasped her hands behind her back and gave me a wistful smile. "This lifestyle comes at a price. You have to sell your attention, your company, your time. You are giving yourself to others who need you."

I nodded again and straightened my posture, motivated by her words.

"But that does not mean turning your back on everything else," she finished, pinning me with an intense look.

Motivation stuttering to a halt, I blinked in puzzlement. _Wait, what?_

She remained silent, as if waiting for me to process that. I just stared back at her. The stillness stretched on once more, and my feet ached from just standing around. If she had been aiming to stimulate critical thinking or whatever, she must have overestimated my intelligence. I still didn't get it.

Just when I was about to ask her to explain, she sighed and shook her head.

"Ah, never mind for now," she said with the patience of a saint. "We will pick up this conversation at another time. You may go, Lucille."

I felt like I should apologize for being a dumbass, but she had dismissed me, and I wasn't going to push my luck. I dipped into a little curtsy before turning and heading for the exit. The corridor was empty and colder this time around, the distant hum of chatter absent as I ambled back toward the sitting room. Folding my arms over my chest, I slowed my pace to mull over what Sha'ira had said, an analysis made harder by the headache that throbbed to life in my temples. I still didn't have a clue by the time I clomped back down the stairs, so I gave up and shrugged, peering around.

Most of the clients were already gone, and the other acolytes were straightening the seats and getting ready to leave. The morning shift had ended, but I went to take Nelyna's post near the entrance, bidding good bye to the girls on their way out. As the rookie on the job, I served as the door guard and appointment scheduler between shifts. Once the room had cleared out, I eyed the controls on the podium, tempted to switch the music to something less sleep-inducing. The urge passed when I thought about Sha'ira's reaction if she came in and found me in the middle of an interpretive dance rendition of _Fleet and Flotilla_. My career was already hanging by a thread; I wasn't going to lose it to the sappy soundtrack of a chick flick.

Checking the time, I groaned when I saw that I still had two hours before the evening shift. After another fifteen minutes went by, I kicked off the stilettos and fired up my new omni-tool. This thing had cost me my first two paychecks, but I'd never had one before and its convenience pretty much paid for itself. The nice part about hanging around here by myself was that I was allowed some quiet entertainment as long as no clients were present. I pulled up a holographic display of a Sudoku puzzle, which was supposed to exercise my brain and make me smarter and shit. Not sure about the "make me smarter" part, though, since I'd been working on the same beginner level puzzle for two weeks straight.

I was in the middle of trying to figure out how I'd gotten five nines in one row when I heard the entrance slide open. Sudoku disappeared in a flash and I plastered what I hoped looked like a welcoming smile on my face as I waited for the client to come around the corner. A human came into view, and my eyebrows rose when I determined it was a teenage boy around fourteen or fifteen. He looked mostly Asian, and he pulled up his loose jeans before sticking his hands in the front pocket of his sleeveless blue hoodie. He swept an uncertain glance around the vacant room, and when his slanted dark eyes met mine, I noticed how full his lashes were. He strode up to me, a hesitant grin on his lips, and I almost laughed when we both realized that he barely surpassed the podium in height. Poor kid.

"Welcome to the Consort's Chambers," I recited, praying I wouldn't manage to screw up the greeting. "I'm sorry, but we're closed until the evening shift and I can't schedule minors for appointments."

Something close to perplexity passed over his soft features as he combed his fingers through his short black hair. "Minors, huh?"

I didn't expect the husky voice, but continued, "Yes. As a human, you must be eighteen or older to employ the Consort's services." Lowering my tone, I muttered, "Trust me, kid. I know how frustrating it is. I just turned eighteen this year."

Oddly enough, he appeared amused more than anything. "Is there anyone I can just talk to off the record? I can still pay for the time…"

"Sorry," I repeated firmly. As much as I would have liked to help him out, there was no way I could set up a meeting off the record. "I'm the only one here right now."

His unwavering gaze prickled my skin. "Do you have a minute? I just need to talk to someone outside my social circle to clear my head."

Persistent. I'd have been more sympathetic to his cause if I wasn't already dealing with a pounding headache. I thought about telling him to get lost, but something about those soulful eyes tugged at me and persuaded me to hear him out.

I let out a long-suffering sigh. Maybe if I humored him he'd leave faster. "Fine, let's make this quick. What's the issue?" I demanded, not even caring that I wasn't in "proper acolyte" mode.

Fortunately, he didn't seem to care, either. The traces of a smile ghosted over his lips before he spoke. "I've been chasing after a certain goal for a long time, and I finally have a shot at reaching it. Problem is, I'm not sure I have enough confidence in myself."

Okay, so he was going for ambiguity. I could work with that. "So… what, you worried you're gonna wuss out or something?"

He shook his head. "No, I'm definitely going for it. I just… can't afford to fail."

To my own surprise, I found I could relate. "Pressure, huh? The feeling that if you screw this up, you won't get another chance?"

"Exactly."

"Well, I hate to say this, kid, but there's not much you can do about the nerves," I told him. "Best to just go for it, don't think about anything else, don't look back. If you worry too much, it'll just distract you so you _do_ end up failing."

He stared at the floor as his hands fidgeted in his hoodie pocket. "Yeah. Logically, I know I shouldn't let the anxiety get to me, but I can't help it. There's a lot riding on this."

"Let me guess, you've got some baggage? Join the club. Whatever your deal is, you can't walk around with the mindset that your life is over if things don't work out." _Says the one freaking out earlier about possibly getting the pink slip,_ I thought dryly to myself.

"It just might be," he muttered before saying, "I'm actually hoping this goal will help me get over my baggage. I've got some history back on Earth that I've been trying to escape."

I frowned at that, put off by how familiar it sounded. "Instead of betting everything on your goal, why not just deal with your history head on? What are you running from?" My frown deepened when I realized that these questions could easily have been directed at me.

"It's something complicated that I'd rather not get into," he declared in a strained tone. "But you're right, I should broaden my options… anything to raise my chances of putting the past out of my mind."

"Look, even if you deny your past, it's not gonna go away," I said. From experience. "Your situation isn't my business, but if it's affecting you this much, maybe you should face it and get some closure before trying to move on."

He scowled, still directing his attention to the floor. "I would really rather keep it behind me, where it belongs. The faster I forget about it, the better."

Irritation flared up inside me and took over my tongue. "If you completely turn your back on your past, how do you expect to learn and grow as a person?" I snapped.

My own words hit me like a bludgeon, and Sha'ira's voice floated into my head. _"But that does not mean turning your back on everything else."_

The revelation cut my temper short. It seemed to have penetrated his thoughts, too, because he shut up for a while. Sha'ira must have seen right through me even though I spent every day working to transform myself into someone I wasn't. I hadn't breathed a word about where I'd come from, but the Consort was sharper than I'd given her credit for. My tough love approach may have struck a chord with this kid, but in all honesty, I could really use my own advice.

Finally, he looked up at me and grinned again. "Thanks for the talk. Can't say it's what I expected, but you actually did help out. Got a name?"

My expression softened. I guess both of us had gotten something out of this conversation. "Lucy."

"Thanks, Lucy. How much do I owe you for taking up five minutes of your time?"

I waved him off. "Keep the credits. I'll take your name as payment." Now that I wasn't seeing red, he was actually kind of cute. Maybe in a few years he'd fill out and come back.

"Kani."

_Kani? That's a weird name for a—_

"And I'm female."

_Oh._

I squinted at "her," noting that the "off" thing about her delicate face was due to the fact that she was actually a girl. Well, there went that short-lived fantasy of hooking up once she reached adulthood.

"Also, I'm twenty-four," she added, laughing at my further shock. "And my goal? I'm starting as the flair bartender at the Dark Star Lounge soon. If I get through it, you should come find me sometime. I'll make you a drink, _kid_."

And with a playful wink, she sauntered out.

I didn't move for several minutes.

_Well… damn…_

x-x-x-x-x

I pulled my black leather jacket tighter around me as a cool breeze blew through. I'd forgotten how drafty this part of the 800 Block was. The mingling smells of fuel and cigarette smoke permeated the air and brought with them a strong sense of nostalgia. I strolled through the damp streets, passing dilapidated buildings and hanging neon signs. The soles of my boots left prints on the grimy pavement, and I hiked up the hem of my skirt to avoid getting stains on the ivory fabric. Several people lined the sidewalks in groups, paying no attention to me as I made my way across the dark area toward a small, rundown public park.

It was empty, but I hadn't expected anyone to be here, especially at this time of night. I just needed to visit this familiar place and think. Making my way to a rusty swing set, I stared at it as echoes of distant laughter crossed my mind, Julia's the loudest and sweetest among them. A week ago I wouldn't have been caught dead back here, but meeting Kani the other day had left an impression that inspired me to come to terms with my own self-denial. My chest felt heavy as I considered the fact that a number of those kids laughing in my memories weren't around anymore. Life hadn't been kind to any of us, but it had been outright cruel to some.

It had been outright cruel to Julia, who never made it to her teens.

"Lucy?"

I spun around at the sound of my name. In the darkness I made out a figure several yards away near the street, and when he stepped forward beneath a nearby streetlight's luminescence, guilt churned in my gut. "Mouse."

From what I last heard, he'd been like me, one of the lucky ones. His line of work wasn't exactly legal, but it bought him food and a real home, which was all that mattered to people like us.

_Us_. I had already reverted to my old identity.

"I didn't think you still came around these parts," he remarked, his cropped brown hair and facial stubble just as I remembered. It had been close to two years since I'd last seen him, but in the dimness I saw that he hadn't changed. Good. I'd always asserted that this was a flattering look for him.

"I don't, usually," I said, shuffling from one foot to the other.

"How've you been? How's work with the Consort going?" he asked.

I shrugged. "It's going. The pay's pretty good, though I still need to work on the whole ladylike thing."

He chuckled, a sound that I recalled with fondness. "That sounds about right. You were always the rowdiest when we were kids."

I gave his shoulder a gentle shove, like I had a thousand times in the past. The gesture took both of us aback, and I hurried to retract my limb, but he grabbed my wrist.

"I know you've washed your hands of us, but it's good to see you again," he told me, offering a smile.

I lowered my eyes and tugged my wrist out of his grasp. "About that… I…" I didn't know how to finish that sentence. Clearing my throat, I tried again. "I was thinking maybe I shouldn't have run off and cut ties with you guys. Or at least with you."

I could sense the astonishment radiating from his body. He looked too taken aback to say anything, so I kept talking.

"Um… well, since we're both here now, maybe we could exchange contact info and keep in touch or something. I finally got an omni-tool, so…" I trailed off uncomfortably.

Good thing Mouse was enthusiastic about the idea. "Yeah, definitely!" he exclaimed. "I've missed you, you know."

Relief washed over me at once. I shouldn't have fallen out with him and the others in the first place. Pretending to be all high class with Sha'ira and the girls was fun, but in the end, it was pointless to keep denying my origin. When I got the chance, I'd have to visit Kani at Dark Star and… I don't know, celebrate pulling my head out of my ass?

Mouse activated his omni-tool and gazed at me over the holographic interface. "I'd be really honored to have direct contact with one of the Consort's acolytes."

I chucked him under the chin, another gesture I'd always done when we were best friends. "Oh, please. I'm just a duct rat from the 800 Block."

x-x-x-x-x

**A/N:** Writing this really was challenging and I've been told that it's noticeably different from my regular style, but I hope it was enjoyable regardless (and Lucy was a lot of fun to depict). Concrit, feedback, or any sort of response is very welcome. Thank you for reading!


	2. The Dark Star Bartender: Kani

**- II -**

**The Dark Star Bartender**

**(2183 CE)**

The stares pressed in on me from all directions, feeding the butterflies in my stomach as I pulled up the sleeves of my navy blue hoodie and took my place behind the bar. Even though I was twenty-four, I still quaked like a kid under the spotlight. My short, layered black hair was already damp with sweat, and I wiped away a few beads that had begun dripping down. Some of the gazes I met reflected contempt and suspicion, but I did my best to brush them off. I could understand the curiosity—though it certainly didn't help to ease the pressure—and it took every ounce of willpower to still the trembling in my hands as I reached for the first set of equipment.

At that moment, the blaring electronic music switched to a familiar track. Hoping my loose attire wouldn't become a hindrance in the next few minutes, I drew in a breath and counted the beats. My eyes went downcast as I tuned out my surroundings and concentrated on the tempo. Then, on the next upbeat, I flew into motion.

Two liquor bottles went aerial in dual spins high above my head, and I heard the spectators murmur in surprise when I caught them with one hand. Tossing in a metal tumbler to follow it up, I juggled a basic cascade. I felt the change in the atmosphere as I wove the mixing equipment around myself with practiced throws, the tension leaving my muscles with every successful catch. I flipped the bottles quickly across my chest, behind my back, bounced the tumbler from my knee, and soon a crowd formed around the bar counters as I imagined my body becoming a continuous flurry of movement.

The siteswap grew more complex as I switched up the pattern and balanced one bottle on my right forearm as my opposite hand landed the second in the tumbler, pouring the liquid inside. Adrenaline pumped through me as I used the rhythm of the music to estimate the measurement, and with a quick tap I flipped both bottles in alternating spins toward the counter. My heart damn near stopped when one came up short and fell to the floor, and I struggled to swallow the mortification while gritting my teeth, face burning at the amused groans that rippled around me. The mistake dealt a blow to my confidence, but I forced myself to continue with the routine. I had gotten this far. I wouldn't turn tail and run now.

Slamming a fist down onto the counter, I cut the derisive laughter short as the impact sent a glass flying upwards, and I swiped it out of the air faster than the human eye could see. It appeared on my extended elbow, the contents of the tumbler raining into it from over my head. Finished with the metal container, I chucked it behind me without looking and thankfully heard it land in the sink as I grabbed two more bottles with my free hand and added about a shot of each to the mixture. Finally, I tossed them back to their places and set the mixed drink on a specific spot on the counter's surface.

Glancing at the spectators in front of me, I spread my arms out wide and then slapped my palms together in a resounding clap. A bolt of electricity surged up from beneath the tempered glass, lighting up the liquid in a brief flash of neon and causing several people to jump back. It disappeared in an instant, but the shock of it had elicited the desired effect. Peals of laughter and chuckles erupted around the bar to accompany the unanimous applause.

Pulse pounding, I offered a crooked grin at the unexpected approval. "Thank you, and welcome to the Dark Star Lounge. I'm Kani Blancarte, the new flair bartender," I announced over the noise. "I'll be holding a flair performance this same time four nights a week. Any questions, feel free to flag me down. Enjoy the rest of your evening."

As the crowd dispersed to return to their business around the lounge, I went to pick up the drink and offer it to one of the women loitering at the other side of the bar, but something caught my hood and yanked me backwards a few steps.

"What the hell are you playing at, drink-juggler?" demanded an intoxicated male patron. He had reached over the counter behind me to grasp and tug at my hoodie. "You some kind of sissy pretty boy or just a cute dyke? I'm not drunk enough to not know the difference unless you're doing this on purpose. You'd better tell me now so I know whether to punch you out or take you home."

I swung my narrowed gaze to him, the warning clear in my dark brown eyes. I had been waiting for someone to say something, but didn't think it would be in such an aggressive manner. Physically, I was toned but petite in size, and I had trouble pulling myself free from this balding, middle-aged man who had clamped onto my clothing. I took a moment to debate cautioning him on his action, but even if I'd tried, by that point it was already too late.

His grip on me loosened when a beefy arm wrapped around his neck from behind, squeezing with relentless strength as a deep, heavily accented voice growled, "Hey, _Arschloch_. Come now with me outside, I show you something. Hint: it is called my fist."

The sleazy patron's face turned an interesting shade of purple as he croaked out, "Lemme go… fucker…"

"Krieger," I interjected, unwilling to add _"had customer killed during first night of bartending job"_ to my resume. "Stop."

The burly German man, Jesper "Krieger" Erikson, released his hold at the command. He stood back, scowling, as the old sleaze coughed and hacked for air. Krieger's attack had drawn all attention in the vicinity; an easy feat, considering how imposing his presence was. I shook my head at the six-foot, two hundred and fifty pound walking bulk of muscle. While he was a stellar example of humanity's contribution to the term "badass," I found I had to reign him in on a regular basis.

The sight of him already scared many a lesser man shitless.

I fixed the recovering patron with my best admonishing look. "Doesn't matter whether I'm male or female. You manhandle me again, my bodyguard here will have permission to crush your windpipe."

He glowered at me as he rubbed his throat. "Do you have any idea who you're dealing with? I'm a member of C-Sec! And this big ass bastard—" he wheezed, jabbing a thumb toward Krieger, "—just earned himself a night in the slammer for assaulting an officer."

Before Krieger could bring up his hands to strangle him after all, my boss, the head turian bartender Arenos Nazario, intervened.

"All right, come on. Break it up, guys. Harkin," he barked at the alleged officer, "to what do we owe the pleasure of your uncalled for patronage?"

"Fuck off, Arenos," Harkin shot back as he pushed his unfinished drink away. "I'm taking the juggernaut in to C-Sec Academy."

"Not happening. Krieger's our new bouncer, and he was only doing his job. Besides, aren't you supposed to be in Chora's Den enjoying your suspension from C-Sec?" The turian's mandibles lifted in a sneer. "Or did even Fist get tired of your mug polluting the place?"

A vein in Harkin's forehead began throbbing as he bit out through clenched teeth, "I wouldn't be in this deadbeat lounge if Fist hadn't ordered the club cleared out for the night, so don't flatter yourself."

Arenos shrugged at that and laid a hand on my shoulder. "Either way, you're a suspended cop who was harassing one of our staff. You're welcome to leave—and encouraged to do so—but you don't have the authority to take Krieger with you."

The legs of Harkin's barstool scraped against the floor as he stood up and leaned forward over the counter, glaring at us. "This ain't over. Once I'm back on active status, the German is getting his ass thrown behind bars and this Asian fag or bitch or whatever it is will be blacklisted from so many venues, it'll have to go whoring in the streets to make a living."

I tried to keep my expression blank even as my cheeks flushed with anger at the insult. Krieger seized the back of Harkin's collar and gave him a rough shove toward the exit.

"Get the hell out and don't let me catch you in here again, _Arschloch_."

"I have a damn translator! I know you're calling me an asshole!" Harkin snarled over his shoulder once he finished stumbling. "You can expect three citations on top of your jail time!"

But when Krieger took a threatening step toward him, he hightailed it out through the doors. I tried to shake off the unpleasant encounter as my bodyguard turned to me, his hand running through his buzzed blond hair as he exhaled.

"Do not worry. I have your back."

I took a steadying breath and nodded, giving him a weak smile. He nodded back in reassurance before stalking over to his post in the corner across from the dance floor.

Arenos clicked his mandibles together as he studied me. "I think I see why you wanted Krieger hired along with you, but does this typically happen or something? I mean, yeah, Harkin's a prick and all—"

"Pretty much. Other humans get thrown off by my gender ambiguity and some of them like to let me know that they have a problem with it," I replied, figuring the explanation was accurate enough. "But confrontations don't usually escalate to that, so it shouldn't be a recurring issue at work, I promise."

"That's good. We're happy to have you with us." He ushered me along to get started on the drink orders that were piling up, but added, "Oh, and excellent idea on the pyrotechnics at the end of your routine. You should be able to build a reputation here in no time."

My spirits lifted at his compliments, and I got busy with renewed enthusiasm. The keenness began to wane, however, when I realized just how challenging this job would be. Admittedly, I had practiced flairing more than I'd studied mixology, and it took me nearly twice as long as the other bartenders to finish making each drink. Dextro ones took even longer, and I was dismayed to find that the dextro and levo liquor bottles were unmarked and placed together on the shelves, which made my life a lot harder.

I sensed Krieger's watchful gaze on me as I hurried to keep up with the orders coming in from all directions, sweating in my hoodie and berating myself for not wearing something more lightweight. The lounge was packed tonight, and the customers were unrelenting in their demands for more alcohol. My limbs grew weary from the physical exertion, but I bore with it, stubborn in my goal to get through this.

A few hours later, I settled into a fairly efficient pace. I had followed Arenos's lead and worked a clockwise rotation around the bar, which let me cut myself some slack. The energy had dwindled as patrons slowed down on the liquor and either went home or hung out at their tables to chat. I was glad for the respite and felt pretty optimistic as the evening went on.

That short optimism was erased as soon as an older turian with bold white colony markings strode up and slammed his full glass onto the counter, cracking it and sloshing violet liquid everywhere. I jumped, startled at the noise, and from the corner of my eye, I saw Krieger rushing over to handle the situation.

"Who mixed the Menae Eclipse just now?" the turian patron demanded in a low, rumbling pitch.

I blanched as I replaced the towel I'd been using to wipe off tumblers and stammered, "Um, that was me…"

He crooked his finger at me, the tension in his posture more than enough to convey his aggravation. I approached him with robotic movements and sent Krieger's advancing form a frantic look to stand down. If I had done something wrong, I would own up to it.

The turian gestured to the spilled drink. "Is there a reason you mixed some sort of levo alcohol into a dextro-based cocktail?"

I bit my lip, trying to recall how I could have made such an error. "I must have grabbed the wrong bottle by accident. I'm very sorry, that was completely my fault."

"Indeed," he agreed with enough disdain to singe my skin. "If I hadn't smelled the difference and ended up falling ill from your disastrous concoction, how would you have taken responsibility?"

My face heated in humiliation as he went on to reprimand me in the middle of Dark Star, where every single individual within earshot stopped what they were doing to listen. Krieger was standing a few meters away, on edge and clearly dying to expel the disgruntled patron from the premises. And to make things worse, Arenos had come over to join us, sighing in exasperation and this time taking the other's side.

"General Oraka, is there a problem here?" he asked, sending me a terse glance.

_General._

I had almost poisoned a turian general. Suddenly, the idea of crawling under a rock and dying became highly appealing.

"Your new bartender needs more training, Nazario. I had expected better from the Dark Star Lounge, but I see the raving reviews are all exaggerated," Oraka snapped. "Had I wanted to die after my falling out with the Consort, I would have simply thrown myself into the Presidium ponds. Astoundingly, it seems I will be safer spending all future credits at Chora's Den instead of this establishment."

Fully in damage control mode, Arenos hurried to implore, "Don't be so rash, Oraka. It was an honest mistake that won't happen again. Let me personally mix you a new drink, on the house."

"No need, I'm on my way out." Oraka produced the datapad check for his tab, signed it, and slapped it down next to the cracked glass. Eyeing me sternly, he said, "Get it together, human. The citizens of the Citadel already have enough inadequate bar service. We don't need you adding to it."

And as he stalked away, my mood plummeted to utter gloom. With trepidation, I turned to Arenos, an apology on the tip of my tongue, but he held up a hand to stop me as he tried to mask his obvious disapproval.

"Look, I know it's your first night on the job. It's unfortunate that you slipped up like that, but I need you on top of your game, Kani," he told me. "It took us months to get a flair bartender position approved, and I don't want to have to replace you already. Just make sure there isn't a repeat occurrence."

I nodded with as much remaining dignity as I could muster. "I guarantee there won't be."

"Good." He paused for a moment in contemplation, mandibles tapping against his mouth. "Drink blunders aside, what we really need is to figure out your selling point. The flairing is good, but you're too timid in the spotlight. Your job is all about the show, and you need to bring out some charisma while you're performing."

"Yeah… that's true," I responded, sticking my hands in my pockets. I scuffed the heel of my shoe against the grimy floor and noticed Krieger trudging back to his corner.

Arenos seemed to take pity on me and reached out to nudge my arm. "Don't let it get you down. Come on, we still have a few hours of the shift left."

For the second time that night, I pulled myself together and got to work. But as I cleaned up several areas of the bar, I couldn't help my drifting thoughts. Failure was something I had rarely gone through in the past. I prided myself on my grasp of my strengths and weaknesses and had always avoided goals that would likely end in failure. To taste it now, in an endeavor I had stepped out of my comfort zone to undertake, was a bitter experience and a hard lesson learned. It almost made me wish I'd stuck to what I knew; I could have transferred my career on Earth into a similar field when I'd moved to the Citadel.

Only thing was, that part of me didn't belong here.

I pushed my musings to the back of my mind and took a long swig of water to rehydrate. No point dwelling further on my shortcomings. I had to take it, learn, and move on. Easier said than done, but what else could I do? I wiped my mouth and checked the time on my omni-tool. About an hour from closing.

Once I placed my glass in the sink, the lounge entrance slid open again. A group of human women and asari came in, chattering amongst themselves. I recognized most of them by their outfits as dancers from Chora's Den, but when I spotted one familiar individual wearing casual clothing in the group, I zeroed in on her.

"Lucy," I called, perking up at the sight of the acolyte I'd met the other day.

The corner of her mouth quirked as she waved to me and directed her friends to head in my direction. They kept talking as they approached, and Lucy reached the bar first, glancing around the lounge.

"Hey, looks like I saved you from backing out on this sweet setup," she remarked when they crowded around the counter. "Good thing you came in and got an earful from me, huh?"

"Yeah, though I'm not doing so hot tonight," I said with a genuine laugh. The stiffness in my limbs dissipated at her presence. Though we didn't know each other that well, I liked the teen's spunky attitude.

"Well, we can change that," she declared, flicking her long sable hair over her shoulder as she leaned closer and lowered her voice. "You kind of did me a favor, too, just by showing up at the Consort's Chambers, so I figured I'd round up these girls and add to your business as thanks."

My eyebrows raised at that, but before I could say anything else, one of the asari at my ten o'clock did a double take and squinted at me.

"I think I know humans pretty well so you're a girl, right? No, wait… a boy. Are you even old enough to be working here?" she asked.

I blinked and gave Lucy a questioning stare. She shrugged and grinned back, telling me without words that she hadn't bothered informing them of my gender. I was about to respond when a conversation between two of the other dancers drew my attention.

"…And that new bartender Jenna is such a weird bitch, like she's cross-examining us or something. I'm not drinking anything from that bar while she's there."

"I know. I can't believe we have to come all the way to Zakera just to get drinks after work. Think we can get her fired and sent back to Flux?"

"Hold on," I cut in. "Jenna's working at Chora's Den now?"

"Yeah, all of a sudden. Why, you know her?"

I coughed as memories of Jenna's hand slapping me across the face in Flux came to mind. "I might have drunkenly made a move on her at one point. Or two. Neither instance ended in my favor."

The first asari dancer bent toward me and winked. "Well, I'm sure you won't have that problem if you tried it with me. In fact, a few of us are free later if you're looking for some fun when you get off work."

The proposition took me aback. None of the patrons thus far had expressed that type of interest in me. "Er, well…"

"But first, you've got to tell me because I'm stumped. Are you a girl or a boy?"

Now all of the dancers were watching me, and I found the scrutiny oddly invigorating as Lucy rolled her eyes and elbowed them in the ribs. Krieger's voice came into my earpiece, asking me if I needed him to take care of them, but I cut the radio connection and decided to play along. The stress of the evening had worn me out, and a bit of distraction was precisely what I needed.

My posture grew languid as I swept an impish gaze over the group. "Maybe you'll just have to find out for yourselves later," I replied, letting a suggestive note lace my words. "Until then, I can be anything you want me to be."

A few of the women giggled while the first dancer smiled. "Well, how about you start off as a cute bartender making us a round of drinks?"

A bottle and a tumbler appeared, spinning over my shoulder and landing on my forearm. The group clapped with delight, and I put on a very different kind of flair performance for them, flirting and cracking jokes of innuendo. Even Lucy blushed at one point, and she reached over to thump me on the shoulder after I gave her long hair a playful tug. When they announced their intention to direct as many people as they could to the Dark Star Lounge specifically to see me at work, I hid a triumphant expression.

Selling point found.

x-x-x-x-x

"The night ended well, at least," Krieger commented once we entered our apartment.

I padded across the tidy living room and flopped onto the couch, not caring that the smell of sweat and alcohol from my clothing would seep into the fabric. "Yeah, thank God. I was starting to doubt whether I was cut out for it after all."

He shed his boots and armor so that he was down to his underclothes before coming to take a seat next to me. "But what did you expect? It was the first time you ever were a bartender. Of course you make mistakes starting out. Back in Hawaii, you told me you will chase this goal no matter what to pay your student loans. Don't give up now."

_Or else we'll have to go back to Earth,_ I finished in my head. The glint of steel and a pair of chilling hazel eyes flashed across my mind, but I forced the memories back. No way my ten-year stalker would find me here, under a different name, under a different profession, under a different image.

I hoped.

"I won't," I stated, resolute. "Plus, you've given so much of yourself to this whole thing, moving with me to the Citadel and teaching me mixology. I won't waste your efforts, Krieger."

He extended one hand to brush my long bangs from my eyes. "I know."

I allowed the contact, my heartbeat picking up at the warmth of his skin. But as soon as he slid his fingers down to grip my jaw, the terminal in the bedroom beeped to signal an incoming call. I chuckled and pulled away as he growled in frustration. Hopping to my feet and wondering who would be calling at this hour, I hurried to answer it. The metal chair at the desk creaked under my weight as I sat down, and my brow furrowed when I saw the location of the caller.

"Hello, Makani de Leon? Oh, wait. That was your maiden name. Makani Blancarte? My name is Elena Petrovsky. I'm a representative of the Bank of the United North American States," the woman on the terminal chirped. "I just wanted to know if you had a few minutes to discuss your account with us."

I sighed when I realized it was afternoon in the States, but nodded. "Sure, might as well."

"We received your change of address to the Citadel, but noticed that your husband, Christian Blancarte, retains a residence in Florida. Since you hold a joint account, we are required to ask whether this is a temporary separation."

"It's a marriage of convenience, and we'll be maintaining separate residences for a while. But we don't intend to divorce, if that's what you're getting at," I told her with more than a hint of irritation. So long as I stayed far away, Chris would be safe. Krieger had pointed that out himself.

"Okay, thank you for clearing that up. Regarding your vocation, our records indicate that you're now a bartender. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"We recently enacted a new policy requiring a brief history of employment from all our clients. It says here you were a university student a few years back, but we seem to have a gap between that and your position now. Could you please provide us with your profession before you left Earth?"

I double checked the security of the call, just a little paranoid that all this information on me transferred at once could be tapped, thereby falling into the wrong hands. Wouldn't be the first time it happened. "I worked at the Leilehua Counseling Center in Hawaii after graduating from college and completing my internship."

And I was damn good at it, too, except I couldn't help the one man I'd done it all for. Now all I saw in my nightmares were those soulless hazel eyes and that shadow at my back.

Suppressing my anxiety, I went on, "I was, and actually am to this day, a licensed mental health counselor."

x-x-x-x-x

**A/N:** Kani was actually my SI/OC in a large collaboration project, but I included her here as a slightly alternative version of her original incarnation. If you'd like to read the collab version of her and Krieger's story, I have their chapter links on my profile. Other than that, I hope you enjoyed this update!


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